McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. Miss Charvill. ruin you. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. ” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. "Is it wrong, then, to surrender to good impulses?" "In the present instance, yes.
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